Don't Let Them Beat You, Princess
by Jo31891
Summary: He'd found the locket years ago, in his high school locker. The note had been signed but there was no one at McKinley by the name Noah. He never expected to meet him, certainly not in a little coffee shop a block from the University campus. Slash, Pummel


**Disclaimer: I Own Nothing. Glee © Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, Ian Brennan and FOX**

Ignore what has happened in Glee. This is a university fic where NONE of the characters knew each other. Enjoy

**Don't Let Them Beat You, Princess**

Sam sighed, rolling his pencil between his teeth. Is brain was fired from studying and he really wanted McDonals. But his roommate wouldn't let him leave until his research paper was complete – it was due tomorrow after all. He'd been putting it off for months. Now, dead week was upon them, finals were in four days and Sam was on the wire. He wanted nothing more than to goof off, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Getting nowhere, the blond glanced around the room for a distraction. The room was quiet, which never happened. There was always music going. But now, the speakers were silent, the headphones vanished, and lips were sealed. He listened to the gentle scritch-scratch of pencil on paper not far from him. Now and then it was interrupted by fabric shuffling.

He twisted around in his seat, straddling the back. Sam watched his roomie, those blue-green eyes focused on his work. The man was dressed down for once. He was wearing a pair of slim sweatpants, a tank, and a thin sweater that hung off one shoulder and practically swallowed him. He hadn't gone to class as it was just a workshop and all his supplies were here. Thus, he had left his feathery brown hair product free. It was nice not to choke on hairspray first thing in the morning.

Hanging on that pale column of neck was a silver chain. It was well cared for, polished daily. At the end, resting in the hollow of his throat was an oval locket. There was a delicate design etched into the front of the locket. Sam had never seen what was inside.

"Hey Kurt," the blond called out without thinking, blue eyes still trained on the silver locket.

Kurt didn't even look up from his sketches. "Yes, Samuel?"

"Where'd you get your locket?"

Those long white fingers paused. His left hand clasped the silver oval, caressing it lovingly. Kurt glanced over to his roommate.

"It was a gift," he answered.

"From who?"

"Dunno," Kurt muttered, trying to turn his attention back to his work. "It was hanging in my locker one morning."

"Was there a note? Like a secret admirer or something?"

Kurt scoffed at the thought. "I doubt that. No one at William McKinley High would be caught dead liking the gay kid." The words were filled with so much bitterness that Sam cringed.

"So, why's you keep it?"

Kurt's eyes softened, thumb still stroking the metal.

"The day before, some jocks decided to be extra cruel. They stole my books and threw the in to a sewer main just off campus. They slashed my tires and locked me in the janitor's closet after classes. No one came looking until my dad called the police." Kurt brushed the fringe out of his eyes, a nervous habit of his.

Kurt had been very straight forward their freshman year. He trusted Sam with some very personal information and the boy had respected that. They were still really good friends. Sam hated the guys of Kurt's high school.

"There was a note, actually. It's what has kept be going all these years." Kurt crossed the room, gently opening the locket. Sam leaned forward to see. A little note sat in the locket. It was hand written.

"Don't let them beat you, Princess – Noah" Kurt recited with a fond smile.

"Did you know him?"

"No. There was no "Noah" at McKinley," Kurt said sadly, closing the locket. "I tried other schools but no one knew of him."

"Princess, huh?" Sam teased with a grin. He watched those pale cheeks turn pink. "He must have liked you."

Kurt shrugged. "Obviously not enough to come find me."

Sam didn't know what to say. Kurt settled back into his chair. He played with his colored pencils, blue-green eyes glassy with old tears. The blond gnawed at his lip, trying to think of something to say.

"Hey! Blaine found a new coffee shop," Sam remembered. He hoped the change of subject and mention of the best friend would cheer Kurt up. "Said they make good mocha. And it's close to campus."

"Sometimes I don't know who loved coffee more." Kurt chuckled as he thought of his energetic friend. Blaine Anderson had been his first friend at the University and had given him to much strength over the years. Blaine also got on well with Sam. So well that Kurt was waiting to see when Blaine would grow a pair and asked the Kentucky blonde out.

"And, he said the male barista isn't bad looking either."

This made Kurt laugh outright. Sam smiled. He hated seeing Kurt sad. Kurt was never born for sadness.

"Alright. You've had your fun." Sam ducked at the sudden change in tone. "How far have you gotten on that paper?"

"But Kurt!" Sam whined pleadingly.

"No, sir! That is due tomorrow. There will be no McDonalds runs until it is done."

After much whining and stubbornness, Sam finished his paper. Kurt completed his final portfolio and dead week ended. The campus was quiet, final exams of the fall looming overhead. Saturday afternoon, Blaine took Sam out for a film, leaving Kurt to investigate this newly discovered café a block off campus.

It was a little café, wedged between a bookstore and a Dollar General. It had a store front window, framed in chocolate drapes. There was a bell on the door that chimed when you opened it. There was a corner of big squishy arm chairs. Single tables with a pair of parallel chairs lined one wall and smattered the floor.

One end of the bar displayed a variety of fresh baked treats. The back wall was covered in black board paint, colored chalk organizing the various drinks offered. It was warm, homey, and calm. Kurt felt safe and peaceful.

Behind the bar, tending to one of the machines was a young man, roughly six foot. He was dressed in a pair of loose, washed out jeans, a black muscle shirt with a chocolate brown apron over. He was all muscle, from his arms and neck to his back and thighs. His dark hair was shaved on the sides, leaving a strip down the center.

And when the barista turned around, Kurt nearly forgot how to breath.

Oh this was totally his new favorite café.

The Mohawk was old school but Kurt could learn to like it, especially after he smiled like that. The designer nearly melted when those brown eyes met his.

"Hey. What can I get you?" and Gaga help him if that voice wasn't a sin.

Kurt barely managed to recite his order. He watched as the man wrote the order on a Styrofoam cup. He got another heart stopping smile before the barista went to work.

"You go to the university?"

"Yes. You?" Kurt asked, trying to keep his eagerness hidden.

"Yeah, English. You?"

"Fashion." Kurt answered. He blushed when the man chuckled.

"Pretty ballsy in this economy."

"Can't imagine doing anything else." Kurt defended goo naturedly. The hotty wasn't picking a fight, Kurt reminded himself.

"That's cool. Not a lot of people do that anymore. People want the safest route available."

"I wasn't born to be an accountant."

The other laughed heartily. Kurt smiled at his back. He was starting to love that laugh.

"I'm Kurt, by the way. What's your name?"

"Noah."

Kurt quickly controlled his racing heart. Yes, this was the first Noah he'd met. No, it was no the same Noah. Noah was a common name; this Noah could be from Alaska for all he knew.

"Here ya go." Noah set the cup on the counter. He punched the numbers into the register, gathering the price. Kurt reached for his wallet. His eyes flitted over the writing on the cup. A heartbeat later blue-green eyes lifted again.

Written in sharpie on the side of the cup, just above his order, was a single word.

**Princess**

"Kurt?"

The boy jumped, startled by the other's voice. He lifted his gaze to meet warm brown.

"Noah…" he breathed softly.

With shaky fingers, Kurt tugged the silver chain hanging on his throat. It came free of his coat. Brown eyes flashed: warmth, fondness, surprise, recognition. Kurt gently popped the clasp, revealing the note.

Princess was written the same way.

Kurt lifted his eyes to look at the other. He watched as that handsome tanned face turned a deep red. Suddenly, Noah was gone, startling the smaller man. Kurt leaned forward on his toes, peeking over the edge of the bar. Noah was curled up, burying his head in his arms as he groaned.

"Damn it…" He moaned into his knees.

"Noah?" Kurt called gently. The man shook his head, clearly too embarrassed to respond. "Noah, look at me." Another adamant shake of the head. "I will jump this bar to make you look at me."

Reluctantly, those brown eyes appeared. Kurt smiled encouragingly. "Hi."

"Hi," Noah replied weakly.

"Come have a coffee with me?"

Unable to deny it anymore, Noah nodded. They settled across from one another in the far corner of the café. Kurt stroked the silver locket lovingly as Noah's brown eyes watched the action.

"Noah, are you the one who gave me this locket?"

He knew the answer. They both knew. But Kurt had to hear it and Noah had to say it.

"Yes."

Kurt didn't know if he was relieved of confused.

"It was my great grandmother's." Noah confessed, watching those long pale fingers caress the silver. "She gave it to my Nonna. Nonna gave it to me. Said to give it to someone who made me happy."

"You gave it to a complete stranger."

"No." the boy denied quickly with a shake of his head. "No, I didn't. I admired you. Your pride and your courage. I wanted to be like you. I wanted to be strong for you. I wanted to be with you. But I was a coward and I couldn't do it," he said softly. "I saw what they did. I got them back. Got transferred."

"That's why I couldn't find you." Noah nodded. "But no one knew a Noah at McKinley. Not even the teachers."

"I spent years building this mask, keeping myself safe. Everyone knew Puck, not Noah."

Puck. Now that range some bells. Puck was a lone wolf. Puck had no friends, no affiliations. Puck was a badass that no one messed with . If you messed with Puck, you were gone, over.

And apparently so was anyone stupid enough to hurt Kurt Hummel.

Noah watched anviously as those delicate, soft hands unclasped the silver chain and pulled the locket away from the boy's throat. Kurt held it out over the table.

"Here."

"Why?"

"It's important to you. You were meant to give it to someone who makes you truly happy. No to make some gay kid feel better."

"Hey." The sudden volume of Noah's voice startled Kurt. The other leaned forward, forcing Kurt to meet his eyes. "You are not some poor little gay kid."

To hear his Noah say those words was like a heavy weight lifted off his heart. He had put so much hope and fear into that name that if the person had denied him, his heart would have shattered.

"Yeah, I know we weren't close then. We barely knew each other. Hell, we still don't know anything about each other." Noah laughed to himself. He gently took Kurt's extended hand, holding it safely between his. "All I know is when my Nonna gave me this locket all I could think of was giving it to you. I was nine! And even then, I knew it was meant for you."

"Nine?" Kurt questioned, eyebrow lifted high.

Noah blushed again, fingers playing with the silver chain. "We were in the same class. I thought you were the pretties person I'd ever seen," he admitted softly. Kurt giggled. The thought of nine-year-old Noah was too cute.

"But, point is," Noah quickly redirected," that I want you to have it. Cause you make me happy and I could never bring myself to give it to anyone else."

"Noah, this really doesn't make sense. Sweetheart, we don't even know anything about each other."

"Well, why can't we? What's stopping us now?" Noah questioned.

Kurt tired to find a reason. He honestly tired to find sense in this but there was none to be found.

"Look, if it makes you happy, we'll start over," Noah offered. "I'll take the locket back. You come in, we'll talk, and I'll ask you out. And at the end of that first date, I'll put this around your neck like I've always wanted to."

"Then what?"

"Then whatever we want, Princess."

Blue-green held dark brown.

It didn't make much sense. And really, when does it anyway?

"Whatever we want."


End file.
